


Don't You Wait

by minyrrds



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Coming Out, M/M, bitty's still in college, i dont know how this happened, it's basically just tooth rotting fluff, jack's on the falcs, this just started out as a tiny little headcanon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-21
Updated: 2015-12-21
Packaged: 2018-05-08 03:11:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,524
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5481146
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/minyrrds/pseuds/minyrrds
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Here’s the thing, in the seconds following that buzzer going off, the first thing that crossed Jack’s mind wasn’t grabbing a hold on the cup. It didn’t occur to him what exactly that first cup, only two years after he had been drafted, was going to mean and what it already meant. He didn’t even consider going in its direction.<br/>Instead, as he’s slammed into and bodies piled around him, foghorns blaring and confetti littering everything in sight, he was thinking of exactly where Bittle might be in that very moment. </p><p>(Or, how Jack Zimmermann accidentally came out to the entire NHL a couple of seconds after winning his first Stanley Cup)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Don't You Wait

**Author's Note:**

  * For [natalie_nebula](https://archiveofourown.org/users/natalie_nebula/gifts), [becausecolours](https://archiveofourown.org/users/becausecolours/gifts).



> I was trying to write [a cute headcanon](http://tooruoikawa.co.vu/post/135599979909/hey-guys) and this happened. anyway, this is for [natalie](http://senorbunnyofficial.tumblr.com) and [grae](http://faintlyglow.tumblr.com/), i hope this fluff makes u both v happy.
> 
> (shout out to my kickass roommate who beta'd this for me, [beth](http://stephaniebrown.co.vu) u r the tru mvp.) 
> 
> I listened to "[Dont U Wait No More](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=457JYEhXF-c)" so many times while writing this, true to form.

Here’s the thing, in the seconds following that buzzer going off, the first thing that crossed Jack’s mind wasn’t grabbing a hold on the cup. It didn’t occur to him what exactly that first cup, only two years after he had been drafted, was going to mean and what it already meant. He didn’t even consider going in its direction.

Instead, as he’s slammed into and bodies piled around him, foghorns blaring and confetti littering everything in sight, he was thinking of exactly where Bittle might be in that very moment.

 

The night before the Falconers had qualified for the final, Bitty, along with the remaining members of the Samwell Men’s Hockey Team who still knew Jack on a personal basis, had sent Jack a care package.

There were a couple of mini maple sugar crusted apple pies in there that would probably make his nutritionist cry, a handful of printed photos of the frogs (once a frog, always a frog, in Jack’s mind) plus Bitty, and his old Samwell jersey, swiped from the back of the equipment room where all the out of use jerseys were kept.

Everyone had signed it with their own little notes beneath their signatures: Shitty and Lardo’s signatures were almost overlapping with small doodles of the two of them winking at Jack and a “Good Job, Cap” scribbled underneath in Shitty’s almost illegible handwriting; Nursey, Dex, and Chowder’s signatures and well wishes curiously circled by three remarkably well detailed frogs; Ransom and Holster with a short list of things to do immediately after one has won their first Stanley Cup, and a very crudely drawn cup underneath; even Johnson had somehow been roped into it, a vague, “Brah, go for the kiss” next to an oversized “J.” Bitty’s signature was his favourite though, a series of small pies and their names doodled underneath the blocky ZIMMERMANN and circling the maroon 1, with a small _Bitty_ ♥ next to them. It was everything Jack never thought he would have, all wrapped up in a stolen, beat-up, old jersey from college.

It’s the heart next to Bittle’s name that got to him, though, and the fact that if anyone would be the one to organize all of this it would be Bitty. Bitty, with his remarkable memory for exactly what kind of pie Jack liked, knew how much he missed his old team and exactly how much pressure was on him right at that point. Jack couldn’t afford to give into any of the anxiety or panic, and despite the amount of therapy between rehab and now that he had gone through, he still had problems asking for help. So he had been texting Bittle, asking him for help without ever really needing to ask: getting chirped at for the insane, even for Jack, hours he was practicing to get through the playoffs and his poor eating habits, getting low quality pre-game snapchats (after an hour of downloading the app onto his phone and getting step by step instructions from Bittle as to how to use it) from the Haus cheering on the Falcs before each game, and coming back to another 300 seconds of videos of the guys watching the game as it was happening. Bittle had been getting him through it all, texting him every day in between practice and sleep, and coming back to small encouragements from Bitty in the form of chirps or sometimes just “You got this Jack, if anyone can do it, it’s you.” (That particular text made Jack blush more than he’d ever admit, and shove his phone back into his bag so quickly he caught the attention of a couple of guys on the team asking whose nudes he was getting. Which got Jack started thinking on what nudes from Bitty would look like, and an epic blush and rushed exit that he didn’t live down for days and was definitely somewhere on video.)

So when Jack had called him earlier that week, awkwardly asking if Bitty was busy and if he would “like to come down to Providence for the final home games for the cup, you know, for luck?”, it hadn’t come off as much of a surprise to anybody.

Twenty minutes and an almost faint Bitty later and Jack was set to pick him up from the bus station in downtown Providence the following morning, and something terrifying and hopeful started to settle in Jack’s stomach. It only took another five minutes after that for Jack to drop to the floor of his kitchen and call Shitty in the beginning stages of a full on panic that surprisingly had nothing to do with the game against the Aces that was happening in less than 48 hours and entirely with the small former teammate of his that he had an unexpected amount of fondness for.

“Brah, Jack, I need you to breathe a whole lot slower and a little less loudly if you want me to be able to understand anything that’s comin’ out of your mouth right now.” 

“Bittle’scomingtothegametomorrowandstayingthisweekandcomingtothegamesandShittyIdon’tknowwhattodoIdon’tknowwhat’shappeningIdon’tIdon’tIdon’t-”

“Jack, you know the last person in the world you ever have to worry about is Bitty. Boy loves you like the sun shines out of your ass, and there’s nothing you can do that’s gonna make him love you any-” A lot of muffled shouting followed, and the grab for the phone away from Shitty distracted Jack enough to calm his breathing to a normal volume.

“Jack,” Lardo’s stern yet caring tone was unmistakable and helped Jack relax that much more. “What triggered it? Ignoring everything the resident loudmouth has said in the last thirty seconds.”

“Bittle is coming for the finals.”

Lardo whistled low and long. “And what’s freaking you out about that?” Her pause measured and timed just long enough that her following, “it’s just Bitty,” was enough to feel like a gut punch.

“I don’t know?”

“You might want to sit on that one then, Cap. But if there’s nothing else that Shits and I can do, seeing as you sound a whole lot better than you did when I first picked up, I’d say it’s about time for you to head to bed and focus on your A-game for tomorrow.” Lardo’s not implying that he interrupted them in bed, but that was exactly what she’s implying.

Jack said his goodbyes with a growing pit in his stomach and apologized for calling out of nowhere, earning him a “shut the fuck up asshole, we love you” from Lardo and a “Jay-Z, I am always here for you man!” from Shitty, before they hung up.

It isn’t until the next day when Bitty is burrowing himself into Jack’s chest in a hug when the vaguely familiar twist in his gut starts to make sense.

 

It comes down to seven games, meeting the expectations of every sports commentator and editorial that had put in their two-cents once it was official that the Falconers and the Aces would be playing for the Cup. The Falcs win the home games, and Jack finds Bitty after every game and ducks out of post-game celebrations in favor of sitting in his kitchen while Bitty single-handedly wrecks his entire nutritional intake for the week. They lose all the away games, going into a shoot-out at the end of the sixth game that brings the teams 3-3 and drives the Falcs’ Coach into a near fit.

(Jack is secretly glad for the loss, because it means that when they win, not _if_ , when, Bittle will be there cheering for him.)

 

The game itself passes by far more quickly than any hour and a half should, and it’s almost unreal to Jack when the buzzer goes off and the score is Falconers 4, Aces 3, but the absolute first thing he thinks is _Bittle is going to be so proud_.

Jack’s grinning like an idiot and pushing past the rush of people on the ice, clambering to grab a hold of him and congratulate him on his first cup, and hops over the sideboard by the stairs where a flushed and cheering Bitty is standing nearly vibrating with excitement.

“Jack,” Bitty is almost swallowed up by the roar of the crowd around him but Jack can pick out his voice a mile away and leans over the railing to get closer to him. “Jack you did it!”

And the only think Jack can think of to do in response is to grab the front of Bitty’s shirt and kiss him and finally settle the last bit of fear in his chest.

Bitty only squeaks and kisses back as enthusiastically as he can manage with half a wall between them, grabbing onto Jack’s shoulders for support.

 

 

 

 

Later, there are questions and reporters and photographs, and Jack’s own moment to hoist the cup high over his head and just bask in it all for a moment, but right there and then, the only thing on his mind was Eric Bittle and how wonderful kissing him was.

 

And that’s how Jack Zimmermann accidentally came out to the entire NHL a couple of seconds after winning his first Stanley Cup.

**Author's Note:**

> Come say hi on [tumblr](http://tooruoikawa.co.vu) or [twitter](http://twitter.com/virquo)!


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